


Get Back Up, Even If It Hurts

by TRANScendtheBInary



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cliffhangers, Creative Writing Prompt, Desert, Fantasy, Gen, Suspense, This does end on a cliffhanger and I have no plans to continue it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRANScendtheBInary/pseuds/TRANScendtheBInary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So our plan was set in motion.  It was doomed to fail from the start– neither Alix nor Afonos knew the rules and regulations of Imperial Soldiers on an airship.  For that matter, I wasn’t totally up to date either, but I sure wasn’t going to tell them…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Back Up, Even If It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote for my Creative Writing class last year, it was written from the POV of my male character Mikæl. The prompt was to write a story from the another gender's point-of-view meaning that the wording and thinking would be different. So yeah. Hope you enjoy it. There is a glossary for my ConLang in the endnotes.

✧✧✧

 

 

> _The wind screamed, or perhaps it was me, as I plummeted downwards.  I hear someone screaming and it is starting to get on my nerves.  I didn’t sign up for this, in fact maybe if_ _someone hadn’t threatened jail time_ _I wouldn’t be in this preposterous situation, falling to my untimely death.  I can see the obituary now, Mikæl Luxias, died  from mind implosion when viewing the stupidity of his actual death, which was being flattened on the Emperor Caeruleum’s unholy earth.  Oh the irony--me, an acrophobic, falling from high above, to be judged by the sands of time.  Why am I even bothering with such thoughts, they’re a waste of my time, as is everything I have been thinking about since the metal floors of the airship gave way to empty space and my stomach decided to take a little vacation to my esophagus!  If my deadbeat stepfather could see me now, his eyes would roll out of his skull.  Mikæl why can’t you be more like your brother, Laxor, he’s married to a countess and has a stable income!  Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger!  Mikæl, stop reading those books of sorcery, Mikæl, you are a waste of space.  Mikæl! Mikæl! Mikæl!!!  Ah, the good ol’ days of never being good enough.  Of course, knowing it would irritate him, I immediately went out and sought the best of the best in the immortal magic of the Viatorae.  Why did I have to inherit looks and brains from my mother, why couldn’t I have inherited something useful, like patience?!  Patience would have been such a useful gift, but no one in our lovely little band of rebels possesses such a talent, neither our own idiot knave Afonos, nor that snake-tongued wench, Palris Alix, who got me into this bloody catastrophe!  And to think that it was only this morning that I was waking up, yelling at Afonos for shouting at me!_

✧✧✧

        The sounds of morning trumpeters down in the barracks was a welcoming noise compared to the shrieking of my banshee tent mate Afonos.  The campgrounds were bustling, the bright crimsons, golds, and blue hues of varying shades of the caravan gypsies’ clothing mingled with the smells of roasted lykos and the spices found only in the desert utopia.  To me, the caravan seemed like a giant extended family.  Gypsy men, women and children all danced around campfires every night, singing songs about the golden age of the Viatorae and the destruction by the Emperium.  Beyond the campgrounds I could see a multi-storied grey structure, made of concrete slabs, whose only architectural feature was an enormous golden sign that read, Imperial Bazaar, Entry by Permit Only. The building marked the entrance to the marketplace and booming town where the desert trading headquarters was located.  The back of the Bazaar held row upon row of quonset huts, the barracks of the Imperial Army--a disgusting sty filled with pigs of war.

        “Sir, your coffee?”  A pretty little waitress decked out in a blue caftan with elaborate neon pink embroidery entwined around the bodice, (dragons, it seemed to me), tapped on my shoulder.  Her face was petite, the slender appearance of one who was of the forest race, and her hair, the color of apples, bounced up and down almost as if it were a spring.  If she were any more colorful I would go blind.  My neck cracked as I pulled on sore muscles.  Sleeping in the the Olis Pantheins, the ruins of the great city that once housed a rainforest in the desert, had left knots the size of boulders and aches all over my body.  I drank the dark, thick liquid, sweetened with sugar and spices from the oases and Southern Mountains. I rested my head on the table.  The thought of a peaceful, quiet morning, drinking my coffee, free of the nuisances that always accompanied the Palris Alix and that fool, the mountain boy Afonos, was enjoyable while it lasted.  

        A voice shrieked at the back of my bowed head, “ **Mikæl! Hey-hey-hey!!** ” Well, speak of the devil, the knave himself had decided to make an unwanted appearance.  That stupid scarf that he never took off was tied in its place of honor upon Afonos’ head... and oh god, what was he wearing?!  I always knew that one day I would collapse from the general ignorance and naivety of humanity, but this! This was a fashion disaster, wearing neon orange pants with a grotesque purple vest, he would be mistaken for a court jester in any coastal city.  This ensemble clashed with Afonos’ pitch black hair and skin which was tinted to the point that one would mistake it for yellow.  First appearances would make one believe that he was a Viatoris. But that was impossible, as we found him in the Northern Mountains, mining for Pandoralcite, the coveted stone worshipped by the Viatorae.  Its physical properties made it extremely helpful to those unable to perform magic, giving them access to mystic powers.  The Emperor, a greedy man by nature, used it for war and personal gain.  

        “What, what, **what**?!” I cried.  I whipped around and glared at the hyperactive thing standing before me.  I felt a headache coming on, at the prospect of having to communicate clearly this early in the morning.  “Afonos,” I grumbled,  “The world had better be ending or you’ve discovered hidden treasure!”  My coffee had tipped over, ending the chance of a picturesque, relaxing morning.  

        Afonos shouted directly into my right ear, “I met a bunch of Atritalli at the elkohl down by the barracks!!”  (Elkohl … a Viatorae word I did not understand … I decided to let it go and went back to listening to his tale.)  His enthusiasm was contagious--and I hated him for it.  “They told me that a bunch of zeppso were going to take the big fancy rocks to the coastal cities today!” he continued, “Isn’t that wonderful!  We should go watch! Can we go watch?  We’re going to go watch!”  Afonos had a terrible habit of not knowing when to shut up.  I was certain he was dropped on his head as a child.  

        Suddenly another voice cried in my left ear, “Did he just say that the Imperial Airships are stealing our Pandoralcite?!”  A loud bang followed by the scrape of the chair next to me announced the arrival of Alix.  Oh, great, it’s the wench.  Hellfire and all the curses combined could not match the terror of the Viatorae Palris.  A bratty girl, she was. The very one who had dragged me on this adventure in the first place.  At least she was not dressed as a jester… in fact her blue silk robes tied together with a forest green sash suited her body well.  As always her hair was covered by a head scarf, yet this time she was adorned in one that was of a purple variety.  “We must stop those idoctim!” she shouted.

        “They ship the rocks out every month,” I said.  “I would know, I was the one who picked them up for my family back on the coast.  Don’t get your headscarf in a twist.”  I heaved a burdened sigh, weighted down by the core troubles of Man–Women.

        Alix scowled. It was a pity, she wouldn’t have any problems finding a husband if she smiled more.  

“An airship **full** of Pandoralcite can **wipe out an entire country!!”** She cried again.  “And **you claim** that is **normal**?!”

        My ears, I believe they have started to bleed.  Really now, shouting this early, where do Afonos and Alix find this sort of energy?  

I shrugged at the Palris’ antics and answered, “My, my aren’t you emotional this morning.  Calm down, rissi.  Why would the Emperor want to destroy an… entire… country… oh…”

        Alix shrieked, “ **Well** ?! You’re the plan guy.   **Fix this** !”  Her face was bright red.  Actually it was always red, so perhaps redder than usual would have been appropriate.  She bent down and hissed in my face, “Come up with a plan and help me stop them-- **this is an order**!”

        “ **An order**?!” I retorted, “And when did I become the plan guy?  I don’t remember us having a vote.”  Fuming, I rose from the table, yelling, “Don’t look to me to solve all of your problems, you bratty little child!”

Afonos thrust his head between us and hollered, “Hey I have an idea!”

        My teeth were bared at this point, my patience had run thin, and I was not happy. “ **Shut yer mouth Afonos!** ” I shouted while Alix screeched, “ **Silancom, Afonos**!”  

        Afonos bowed his head, sat down, and began to draw pictures in the sand.  I felt badly, but only a little.  He deserved my wrath after the lovely wake up call he had given me.  It is commonly known that the Emperor hates the Viatorae, if what the rissi said is true, then he could potentially wipe out the entire race… dania!

        I sighed once again and muttered,“I have an idea–”  I swore if I sighed anymore today, I would become the great aeolykos.

“We wing it and hope we don’t get arrested?!” Afonos whooped **,** and he jumped into my lap gazing up at me with excitement.  I struggled to move him off of my legs, however such attempts were in vain.

        “Oh for the love of Triada! Afonos, stop talking!” Alix groaned, and then proceeded to slap Afonos upside the head.  “Continue, Mikæl,” she demanded.  The Palris was definitely in her element, ordering people around.  

        I started again, “Anyway, as I was trying to say, we go with the classic gag ‘em and bag ‘em stunt.  It will allow us to dress up as Imperial Soldiers and get on the airship.”  It was a terrible idea, one that would end in either death or, if the Emperor was feeling kind, maybe life-long imprisonment!   

        “Yay, watch out Empire, fear the wrath of the Triple A’s!” Afonos howled.  He grinned at us standing up saluting empty air, always the comedian… I wonder if it would upset the rissi if I killed him.  

“You idiot, Mikæl starts with an M,” retorted the rissi.

        “Oh!” Afonos giggled insanely.

So our plan was set in motion.  It was doomed to fail from the start– neither Alix nor Afonos knew the rules and regulations of Imperial Soldiers on an airship.  For that matter, I wasn’t totally up to date either, but I sure wasn’t going to tell them…

✧✧✧

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary  
> Aeolykos: the windy wolf, a character in a Viatorae children’s tale  
> Atritallum: Prostitute, “Woman of the Night” ; pl. Atritalli  
> Literal definition translates to: Pitch Black Exchange  
> Dania: an expression of annoyance, closest translation is damn  
> Elkohl: place in which alcohol is served, similar to a pub or a bar  
> Idoctus: Idiot, pl. Idoctum  
> Lykos: Wolf like creature  
> Olis Pantheins: the ruins of an old city, not the actual city’s name  
> Literal definition is: Olden Pantheon  
> Palris: Princess (Ironically the Viatorae do not have Kings and Queens, they are governed by a council of twelve elders, 6 men and 6 women  
> The Viatorae are discriminated against by the Empire, therefore palris is used to insult the Emperor)  
> Rissi: Slang for Princess, an insulting way to refer to nobility  
> Most of the Coastal people use this term to refer to Viatorae women  
> Silancom: Silence  
> Triada: The Holy Trinity, Loyalty Courage and Knowledge, the Viatorae’s main religion  
> Viatoris: A race of Desert People, pl. Viatorae  
> Zeppso: Zeppelin, the airships used by the Empire to transport Governors to the Viatorae territories, and to transport Pandoralcite to the coastal cities and capital.


End file.
